


It'll Last Longer

by Lokitale



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, I Tried, Modern Era, Photography, Post-Devil May Cry 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokitale/pseuds/Lokitale
Summary: You are going to die. Of course, that’s just you being dramatic but then again, in your line of job, you either quit or die trying to get that beautiful shot of Dante, The Legendary Devil Hunter.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Dante (Devil May Cry)/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	It'll Last Longer

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first DMC fanfic and honestly I really want to share this one even if it's rough because it's my first reader fanfic so I'm taking suggestions on how I can improve. Hope Dante isn't that much of an OOC here. I might have to edit this soon.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, comments and kudos are appreciated <3

You belong in an online community for freaks because there’s really no other word to describe it, and you’re starting to think that you needed to be one to last this long in taking photographs of a certain red-coat wearing devil hunter so you can pay your bills. That, and dumb luck. You’ve had so many close calls of being demon chow yourself but you always manage to escape, though within an inch of your life. 

Tonight, nothing is different and you thank whatever god may be when you’re able to find Dante in an abandoned warehouse fighting demons that looks like they don’t know if they wanted to be snakes or lizards so they decided both.

Dante is slashing a demon in half, his coat flapping behind him with a snap, he mocks and taunts at the devils every now and then, parading around like he’s babysitting kindergartens instead of slaughtering monsters, and you curse with every snap of your camera because none of your shots are coming out great.

Doesn’t really help when the whole warehouse is dark, huh?

Alright, you better fix that. Rent ain’t free and people are paying you to get a glimpse of Dante because people are into white-haired lunatics these days. It used to be easy too, your photos consisting of just him eating sundaes and taking a stroll on the street, but lately your customers have questioned your credibility. Is it really Dante if he’s not fighting demons?

Damn it, you say as you crawl around the dusty and cold surface of the warehouse, monster wailing and Dante laughing like a madman behind you. You sure hope Dante doesn’t get suspicious when the lights just spark open when it’s just supposed to be him and demons.

“Jackpot!” You say when you saw the switch and mentally curse because damn it, the last thing you want is Dante rubbing off on you. You have been taking photographs of him for the past three months now, getting paid for his face and putting your life in the line, so maybe you can cut yourself some slack.

You press the button and the lights flickered first before staying on. You turn around, ready to crawl back to your corner to finally shoot (ha ha) Dante and get away with cash from weirdos from the internet only to stop on your tracks.

Just three feet away, a demon is in front of you—of fucking course. It stands on all fours, the neck elongated and poised like a cobra ready to strike, its forked tongue coming out, tasting the air. You don’t know if it sees you in infrared like Discovery Channel says but you’re sure you’re trembling so much it probably thinks you’re vibrating. Will that make you looks less appetizing?

It steps forward and you yelp, taking two to step back only to collide against the wall. Wait, no. You look up and see something far worse than the lizard-snake demon hissing in front of you.

Dante. Oh shit.

He peers down at you, his white hair framing his aged face but, you have to admit, he still looks damn attractive even with the stubble and the wrinkles, obvious bags under his eyes and—shit, girl, get it together!

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dante says and gives you a knowing wink and you can only stammer, thinking of something to say but failing miserably as your words tumble against each other in your brain that’s beginning to melt like goo in your skull. He chuckles and steps around you, completely shielding you from the demon with his tall and built frame.

It’s only now do you notice that the demons have increased and there are already four lizard-snake hybrids in front of Dante. This scares you because you’re only equipped with a camera and your track record is the worst in the history but Dante laughs, tilts his head at them and raises one hand, beckoning, the other summoning his sword in sparks of orange red.

“That’s more I like it,” and he charges towards them.

It takes you a while to recover but then you soon press the seeing hole on your eye as you take pictures of Dante furiously. Sometimes he’s in the air, his sword on one hand the other on a demon with its jaw open for him. You get on one knee and take a picture of him crouched down, his body turned to the camera but eyes trained somewhere else. Next he’s standing nonchalantly, mid-shrug with hands in the air as two demons pounce for him at the same time. Another is him lying on his side with on leg bent on the knee, his head propped by a hand as he winks at the camera. You’re pressing at shutter with fervour you think it’ll come off soon, but your shots look amazing and Dante is absolutely posing for every photo you think it’s deliberate.

Wait.

He is.

The bastard is actually, really, posing!

You stop, standing straight as you scowl at the older man, one hand on your hip while the other holds the camera on your side.

“Oh, babe, why’d you stop? I have fifty more of those coming in!” Dante turns to you and flash you a wide grin, his face exploding into that boyish glee that should have looked off putting in such an aged face but you can’t help but blush instead.

“How long have you known that I’ve been taking your photos?” You ask as Dante slashes at another demon. They keep coming out of nowhere, never depleting in numbers or getting tired. Dante doesn’t seem to be bothered, quite the contrary as he fights with that smile on his face.

“Three months ago,” He answers and you wince. Of course. He can probably smell a demon miles away, so what makes you think he would not notice you slinking around the corners like a rat as you try and take pictures of him.

Finally, the warehouse is empty of demons, most of their remains disappearing into ash that the wind coming from the entrance sweeps away. Dante walks towards you, his sword now nowhere to be seen. This doesn’t help your beating heart from going 200 beats per minute you should have died then. You’ve seen what Dante can do with those hands that him without a weapon doesn’t exactly make you feel any better.

“If it helps,” Dante says when he stops in front of you, towering over your small frame, “I’m into it. It was a little bit creepy at first, I have to admit, but then, it’s about time I get a paparazzi, I’m surprised it took this long.”

“Oh no, I’m not—this isn’t—“ well, what? He is right, you think. You sigh and instead tell him the truth. That you first found him in a café eating strawberry sundae and because—yes, you are a creep—you took a picture of him and posted it at this online site asking, begging—as a joke, you swear!—who is this attractive daddy because you’ll die dry as the Sahara desert if you never find out what’s his @.

Turns out a lot of people know him and someone has messaged you privately that you can probably make a lot of bucks if you can produce more photos of him. And so you started this account and you’ve been earning steady cash since, following him around and taking his photos during his jobs.

Dante is patient for you to finish, rubbing his stubble the whole while as he listens to you ramble word after word like a kid explaining why you needed to get that cookie from the jar despite being told a thousand times already not to take one—now you’ve eaten it all and you’re just making alibis after alibis, because you hope you can get more.

“So, you’re getting paid for my good looks and I get nothing?” is Dante’s conclusion once you finish and you bite your lower lip not to add a comment about his body being good too, not just the face.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” You look down, embarrassed. You already know how unethical it is to take pictures of someone and post it on the internet to profit from it, but it sounds much worse when it’s coming from someone else—specially when that someone is the person in those photos.

“Hey, what’s your name?” still, surprisingly enough, Dante doesn’t sound angry. You peer at him and tell him your name, then coughing and clearing your throat before repeating it again, much clearer this time.

“(Y/N)” Dante repeats and you need to take a deep breath because hearing your name in his voice is like a caress on your bare skin.

“Well, I’ll definitely need to be paid for my services, I have been posing for you since you started. And protecting you at the same time.”

You look up at him and Dante is smiling, almost as if to reassure you that you’re not in trouble. It warms you to think that a man so well versed with guns and killing is so gentle in person.

“Ah, yeah, of course, how much? I’ll give everything I earned from the account, you do deserve—“

You stop when you feel his finger over your lips, just hovering a few centimetres away that you can almost feel it touch your flesh. Your reaction must have been something because Dante chuckles softly.

He puts his hand down and you already miss the ghost of his touch, “Just take me out for dinner.”

“Like a date?” Your cheeks feel hot and you fight the urge to cover your face. You’re on your twenties, not some teenager, get yourself together—look hot, not an embarrassed virgin, Jesus.

“If you’ll humour this old man, yes. Only if you want to, babe, don’t really want to force you,” he winks at you and you almost let go of the camera.

“If it helps,” you start, repeating his line from before as you gather some courage to be able to form the sentences because it feels out of character for you but you don’t want to be the only one getting flustered here. “I’m into older men.”

Dante is silent for a while, momentarily shocked at your bravado, but then his smile gets wider and he looks away for a moment, almost as if trying to hide the fact that he’s smiling but he looks back at you, seemingly plotting something.

“Well, you did call me hmm, what was that again?” He looks up then back at you, “Daddy, right?”

Alright, forget about the whole im-not-a-teenager-anymore because you feel like one, your hormones are ranging right now, and you hide your face with one of your hands, peeking at him through your fingers as sounds fall from your mouth, trying your best to form words that breaks apart as soon as it leaves past your lips.

“Oh no, oh no,” you finally say, “please, just let a demon eat me now.”

Dante laughs, a sound so full of mirth you have to smile yourself and chuckle at your situation. Slowly, he grabs the hand covering your face and gently pulls it off you. His touch is gentle so you relent, letting you hand rest on his palm.

“Be careful what you wish for, babe,” Dante whispers and his voice is much lower this time, a rich baritone that reminds you that here is a man—an attractive man holding your hand while the two of you are alone in a warehouse, the pads of his fingers slightly rubbing at your skin, leaving a sensation almost akin to fire.

“I am a demon myself,” his eyes turns red as his pupils become slits, the skin around it prickling with scales as he looks at you with an expression you can only decipher as hunger.

What a picture-perfect moment, you think, as you lick your lips and lean in.

You did say you want to be eaten, right?


End file.
